Similarities
by KoishNoish
Summary: Sansa's alone, her family is gone and everyone who ever loved her is dead. Jamie's learning quickly that the man he was is no longer the man he can be, and the one person he wishes would love him instead rejects him. A family dinner may well do them both some good.


**Before we get started let me just say I love this pairing. There's some really good stuff out there on this pairing if you like it, because honestly this is probably awful. I don't know what I'm going to do with this fic, I may upload more chapters or I may leave it at this one chapter. Right now I'm not sure what I'm doing with it so just have a blast! Also this is mainly AU, should it continue that is.**

**Disclaimer: Game of Thrones belongs to HBO and George R.R. Martin all characters belong to them although I may add my own.**

It was odd to Sansa that once King's Landing had looked golden and glorious, it confused her that once she had been excited and eager to enter the city and marvel at it's southern ways and elaborate feasts. It was even more confusing to think once she had fancied herself in love with Joffrey.

Now whenever she glanced the king with his vile smirk and deceivingly almost calm eyes she had to strain not to rush over, rip his sword out from its sheath at his side, and stab him with it multiple times until he didn't resemble a human any more. Then the whole of Westeros would see the king for what he really was, a monster. But every time she willed herself to do it, remembering her father, her mother, her brothers and Arya who had no doubt died cold and alone by now she also was forced to realise that she was the only one left, the last Stark.

There was Jon Snow but he wasn't a Stark, not really, Sansa had never disliked Jon but her mother clearly had and Sansa had thought it best to copy her mother. But now mother was dead and Jon Snow was the last even close family, other than her Aunt Lysa, that she had left… and she had not seen Aunt Lysa for years. Even the smallest amount of kindness from someone, anyone, who understood the horrors she had been through would be appreciated, would be taken and consumed by her sadness.

Tyrion was kind, as good as they got for a Lannister, but she could not trust him. Everyone she had trusted since coming to King's Landing had hurt her, everyone, even the Hound who had run off to truly leave her alone in the lion's den, fat lot of help he was. The queen regent had smiled and offered little words before showing her true colours, Sansa knew now that Cersei Lannister was not a nice person at all. Lord Baelish, who had offered so many kind words and offers of escape, had abandoned her and left her crying as she watched his ship sail away. Margaery Tyrell had seemed to offer friendship and love and yet the moment Sansa had discovered she was to be wed to Tyrion Margaery had cut all ties with her, as if they had never once spoken. That was the way of the capital. Sansa had been thrown around, used, tortured, exploited, hurt and then ground into the dirt more times than she could count and more than once she had considered taking up a blade, maybe for herself, maybe for everyone who dared even glance at her. Unfortunately it had always been Arya who had been eager to swing a sword, Sansa was certain she would fail were she to pick it up.

So it was that, as Sansa looked over the disgusting, corrupt and putrid city from her window, that she realised she truly hated this city, that it had never been beautiful or majestic or wonderful but had always been disgusting and vile, full with lecherous villains and power hungry mad men. Sansa was not such an idiot to believe that even Tyrion did not lust for power, he had the blood of his father and his sister, even if he lacked the vehemence and cold fury of both. She knew her husband was hungry for recognition and leverage, that he enjoyed the game of power that Sansa's father and her family had known so little about. She could not help but realise that her family's incompetence to the game and its complexities had led to her family's destruction. Their honour and true love for one another had led to their downfall, they had not understood and it had paid them dearly. Tyrion knew the game, if Robb had only had a bit more lust and had the knowledge that her husband possessed he would be alive and riding to save her. Alas he had not, Robb had been far too much like father for that, and as a result he was dead.

Sansa understood a lot of the game now, although she tried not to comprehend it. She, like everyone else in this crude city, had been corrupted by it, moulded by it, she had been forced to learn and adapt. If she were to survive she would have to comply, comply with the king, comply with the queen regent, comply with Lord Tywin, comply with the kingsguard, comply with her husband, comply with the Lannisters, comply with everyone who held their nose even a slight bit taller than her. In the end, submission was the only way to survive.

"My lady," Sansa turned her head to her husband, who stood by the door, his hands over one another and positioned before him. If Sansa had been allowed she would of remained staring out of the window but she knew her husband wanted her to look at him and so she did. She took in everything about him in one single scan that lasted less than a second. He was hesitant, she had seen this upon him when they were meant to consummate their marriage and had seen it often on his face when around her, he was about to propose something he knew she would not like, despite the fact he already knew she would comply with him simply because he was him. Sansa waited, as she knew she should and waited for Tyrion to proceed, which of course he did.

"My father has requested our presence at the king's table tonight," her heart immediately sank but she remained as she was on the outside, keep her walls high and mighty and none would ever break her, "what with the return of my brother, father has arranged for the family to eat together tonight, as well as the Tyrell's. Should you feel a little-"

"I will make myself ready, my lord." Sansa cut in standing and moving to her dresser as Shae entered behind her husband and moved to retrieve the hairbrush.

"You do not need to come, Sansa." Tyrion spoke, unmoved from the door where he still stood, awkwardness emanating from him but Sansa didn't care much. If he felt awkward than so be it. If she did not appear for this event then the hand, the king, the queen regent, the future queen, the Kingslayer and her husband would all notice and disapprove. She could not risk it under any circumstances. Even if she had been poisoned Sansa would have dragged herself to this feast.

"I'll… return later…" Tyrion spoke quietly before Sansa heard the door open and close. Shae set to work on her hair but Sansa did not relax, she never dared relax. She trusted Shae, far more than she should do by any means, but that did not mean she confided in her, she was not her mother or even her friend. She was her handmaiden, nothing more.

/O\

Sansa was silent as she walked beside Tyrion, her head kept low and her eyes upon the floor, she had learned quickly that should she make eye contact with anyone they always seemed to think it their duty to talk to her. Talking to her meant she had to reply. Replying meant she often said something wrong or in the tone of voice they didn't like. That meant they'd start mocking and talking about Robb and Sansa didn't want to hear about Robb, she heard his screams enough in her nightmares. She wore a dress specifically made for her by the queen regent and her servants. It was simple and bore no jewellery upon it, most of it still somehow seemed to shine a silver and red though. She hated her dress. She hated red, the queen had called the shade 'Lannister Red'. Sansa had very quickly decided she did not like Lannister Red. The red seemed to always make itself clearly known to Sansa as she glanced at it. It screamed at her. It screamed that she was a traitor, that she had turned her back on her family and all who had ever loved her, it marked her as Lannister property although she defiantly told herself she was _not_ a Lannister.

Tyrion was dressed in red as well although his clothes showed off more riches and exuberance and he did not look angry or embarrassed to wear red. Had Sansa still been a little girl she may have even said Tyrion looked quite handsome in it as long as you forgot the scar and the height, as it was Sansa had to repress an urge to slap her husband for daring to wear those colours. She hated this place so much.

They entered through guarded doors, four guards stood at the doors, two Tyrells and two Lannisters. Sansa kept her eyes down as the doors opened and then closed behind them before, out of courtesy and knowledge that otherwise she may well be scolded tonight, she looked up to the others in the chamber.

The chamber was large, not as vast as the throne room but still fairly large, almost as large as Winterfells…

She quickly eradicated this thought from her mind.

Torches lit the chamber around the room, illuminating the banners of the king, the Lannisters and the Tyrells, all of which flapped lazily in slight currents of air that blew through the chamber. Servants moved constantly around the massive table that had been prepared, serving wine and food at the leisure of those seated.

At the head of the table sat Joffrey, his eyes glinting dangerously as they looked upon Sansa as she entered and Sansa immediately averted her eyes, he looked particularly malicious tonight. Margaery sat next to him, not looking to Sansa as they entered and instead talking with Olenna Tyrell who sat around the corner of the table and who nodded soothingly as Margaery smiled with humour. Next to Olenna sat Lord Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden who had his back to Sansa and Tyrion as they entered and seemed to be in a conversation with Lord Tywin.

Lord Tywin sat opposite Olenna Tyrell and seemed to be far more attentive to her than Lord Mace who Tywin seemed to regard with great scrutiny. Next to Lord Tywin sat Cersei, who had her venomous eyes set upon Margaery as she sipped her wine coolly, she looked even more evil than usual this evening.

Next to Lord Mace sat Loras Tyrell, once Sansa had been infatuated in him but now she would rather see him dead. He had given her his fortune when she had been that idiot girl and then forgotten her, then they were to be wed and as soon as the Lannisters stuck the over sized noses in Loras had not once approached or said anything to her, she glared at the back of his curls as her eyes went to the last figure at the table, sat beside Cersei. She had seen the man what felt like centuries ago back in Winterfell but she had heard the name many times since. The Kingslayer, Ser Jaime Lannister, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the eldest son of Lord Tywin. She glared at this man, who had looked up upon their entrance although his eyes landed on Tyrion, not her. He had attacked her father in the streets of King's Landing, she had heard all about that. It had been his fault this entire thing had happened. He had been Robb's prisoner until he escaped and ran back here… she realised with a slight wrench of her heart that he had probably seen more of her family in the last year than she had. That almost made a tear well up, almost.

His hair looked like it had been recently cut all the way back, not at all as she remembered him, her memory was thrown even further off when her eyes found his right hand. She had heard about the golden hand of course but had not expected to actually see it. Trust the Lannisters to loose a hand and replace it in gold instead. There were two absent seats next to Ser Jaime.

"Come Sansa," murmured Tyrion pulling her hand slightly and she followed him around the table and sat. Tyrion sat next to his brother so Sansa was left only sitting next to Tyrion, she was thankful that Tyrion had done this deliberately for Sansa was sure it was deliberate. Wine was quickly poured and food swiftly served for them both. Whilst Tyrion set to work drinking Sansa merely looked at her food before straightening her back and wishing she were anywhere but here. She hated these events, she hated having to see all their face, the faces of liars, cheats, torturers, murderers and killers and all of them were around her now. She felt alone, so very alone, and wondered if it was possible to die from loneliness.

"I can't say I've seen much of you, brother," spoke Tyrion after swallowing some of his food and looking to Ser Jaime.

"There hasn't been time. I've been busy."

"Ah yes, I forgot how busy you would be, what with all the menial tasks you have to perform." Tyrion spoke with a smile, which Sansa had not seen before, it was as if he felt more free around Ser Jaime.

"I forgot how much a man had to fight in this city just to get things done."

"You've been gone a long while brother."

"Some would say too long," Jaime spoke his eyes darting to his sister. Sansa had of course heard the rumours and judging by Joffrey's attitude, she wouldn't be surprised.

"Much has changed," spoke Tyrion as he gulped down some wine.

"Indeed, you are wed now." Tyrion sputtered before leaning back in his chair so that Jaime had a good view of Sansa.

"Indeed, brother I suppose you already know my eternally happy wife, Lady Sansa." Sansa forced her eyes to meet that of Ser Jaime, she knew most people expected it from her. Joffrey had once hit her when she did not look at him when he wanted. His eyes were a piercing green, but as she was about to look away and dismiss them for another pair of Cersei's eyes something in them shimmered and she was forced to look on. The eyes were those of a Lannister, no doubt, but something very different lurked beneath those eyes, something the queen regent, her husband and the hand did not have. She might have stared for a second or a million years. Their eyes were broken when Tyrion gave a small cough and Jaime looked to him. Sansa watched Tyrion raise an eyebrow before Jaime looked back to Sansa.

"My lady, a pleasure to meet you… I apologise for your loss." Sansa had heard the words before, practiced words, fake words, yet somehow from his lips they seemed to ring true, Sansa was undoubtedly extremely wary of the man before him.

"Thank you Ser, I am thankful you are able to be with us now." These were practised lines too that she spoke and Jaime raised a single eyebrow before turning back to his brother.

"Quite the charmer, isn't she?" he quipped and for the first time in a very long time she narrowed her eyes at him. His eyes flitted up and he smiled knowingly at her before she could catch herself. Tyrion glanced and his eyebrows raised as he saw her expression. She quickly schooled it and decided instead to gaze at her plate, she could not allow her walls to fall, let alone before this man.

"Play nice, Jaime," Tyrion spoke taking a sip of wine before his eyes fell on Jaime's plate.

/O\

Tyrion would rather not be at this little 'reunion' of sorts and if it weren't for Jaime's presence he would have already drunken himself stupid and hoped father would allow him to leave simply because he was an embarrassment to the family, as it was, Jaime was present and Tyrion felt extremely relieved to have him here. He may have friends such as Bronn and Varys but neither could be fully trusted. Bronn was a friend as far as money would allow and Varys… well… was Varys. Jaime, however was his ever faithful brother, the one who had always stood up for him, the one who beaten up the bullies when they called Tyrion names. Let the realm call him a man without honour, a Kingslayer and an oath breaker but Tyrion would never see him as that. And despite the fact he may be one hand short Tyrion was glad to have his same old brother back… almost.

Tyrion knew it was bad of him but he could not keep his eyes off the golden hand. It wasn't that it disgusted him, as he knew it did Cersei by the way she kept looking at it in disgust, but Tyrion couldn't help but realise that Jaime's right hand, the hand that had slain so many and had protected Tyrion as a boy, was gone, replaced with some odd golden replica that Jaime obviously was not accustomed with, since it had sat rigidly on the table the whole time, not moving at all.

Tyrion also noticed how Jaime kept glancing to Cersei but she never looked back. Something had changed, something cataclysmically important that he was not privy to. Jaime looked hurt, very hurt, he would never dare ask his brother but he saw it in his eyes, the way his left hand moved and the sombre look on his face. Tyrion very highly suspected Cersei had rejected him, she had certainly been having sexual exploits in Jaime's absence, perhaps she was bored of him, not that Jaime could know of these exploits. Perhaps it was his missing hand that Cersei now loathed, that made more sense, Cersei had always loved Jaime because he was the perfect male form she could have been. He wasn't so perfect any more, especially not with the slightly aged look that had fallen upon him. Somehow his time had made him age far faster than he ever had before. He hadn't aged any fast, of course, but his looks had. He may have looked to be in his late twenties before but now he looked to be approaching his late thirties, his proper age, not that this made him any less attractive. Tyrion had already overheard two seving girls speaking about how they found Jaime to be more attractive than ever before.

But whatever he may have concluded about his brother, and his wife for that matter, he had not expected this. As they had looked upon each other Tyrion had suddenly felt very out of place, as if he was involved in something he should not be, and when Jaime had made that little quip at her she had scowled, _actually scowled_. Tyrion had been trying to get something, anything, out of her since their marriage with no results and yet now within seconds of greeting Jaime had received a response from her, not one that was just a cold wall or practised words. And it seemed that when Jaime spoke to her that a little of the old, confident, Jaime returned with smirks and a spark in the eye. Tyrion was suddenly extremely interested in the pair of them when his eyes landed on Jaime's plate and he frowned.

"Have you not eaten?" Tyrion sensed Sansa's eyes now look to Jaime's plate as Jaime seemed to squirm slightly.

"No."

"Why ever not? The food is delicious!" spoke Tyrion proving a point by reaching out, taking some food from Jaime's plate and eating it himself with a small smile. Jaime, however, did not smile, in fact he looked distinctly hurt again and Tyrion was confused. What was going on? His eyes travelled to his wife who was now looking at a tapestry with far too much interest and Tyrion's eyes went to her plate, also untouched. Was the food poisoned and he was unaware? Tyrion glanced down the table to see Mace Tyrell and Joffrey both eating. Well if the food was poisoned there wasn't much bad being done on those two.

"Why starve yourself?" asked Tyrion returning his eyes to his brother, "honestly, you're as bad as my sweet wife." Jaime snorted slightly before reaching out for his wine cup, far too late he seemed to realise he had reached out with his right hand.

/O\

The moment Jaime realised it was too late and his wine tipped all over his segment of the table. Conversations stopped and eyes turned to him. He immediately felt extremely foolish and at the look in Cersei's eyes something clenched in his stomach that made him want to throw up, even though he had eaten hardly anything all day… or the day before… or the day before that one.

From the head of the table Joffrey started laughing and Margaery Tyrell started to chuckle, if only to appease her soon-to-be husband. Ollena Tyrell had a judging look on her face, Mace Tyrell was looking at Jaime as if he was the greatest fool ever to be born, Loras seemed to have composure enough to look away although the light smile was apparent, his father looked pissed off as if blaming Jaime for having his hand cut off and looking to Tyrion as he ushered a servant Jaime waited to glance his reaction. Tyrion shrugged with a goofy smile and Jaime felt his hear sink, Tyrion thought him a failure. He could feel a lot of very unpleasant things brew within him, the strongest of which was hurt.

He had come home, after fighting and being held prisoner and having his bloody _hand_ chopped off, he had come home only to be laughed and sneered at, to be mocked and abused. He couldn't give a shit what Joffrey thought but Cersei and Tyrion, that stung, that stung a lot. It had been the memory and urge to be with Cersei that had gotten him through the whole fucking war. If it hadn't been for his determination to get to her he would have died a long way back but he hadn't died and he'd made it all the way back, only for Cersei to spit on him for being '_too late_', what the fuck did that mean? As the servant came over with the towel Jaime took the towel with his left hand.

"I'll do it." He said refusing to be humiliated any further and he cleared it before the servant took the towel and moving off. Conversations were continuing and Jaime's head turned to look at Tyrion, except they flew over him to the girl sitting next to him who was looking at him in a way Jaime could not explain.

Earlier when he had stared into her eyes he had been shocked to see the Tully blue eyes but had been at a pause when he saw the hint of hurt buried there, buried very very deep. He had only glanced it because of recent events that had happened to himself. Crazily as he had stared into her eyes he had thought the girl the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and she hadn't looked away, like everyone else had. She had looked into him, seen him, and she hadn't spat him out. Which was good because that somehow made him feel that at least someone knew who he was.

There was no doubt in Jaime's mind that the Jaime who he had lived as for many years, who had fucked his sister and given her three children, the Jaime who had pushed Brandon Stark from a window, the Jaime who had attacked Eddard Stark in the city was gone and not just of his own design. Cersei had rejected him, his father disowned him and Jaime was fairly certain that Tyrion was steadily thinking less and less of Jaime as he continued to show his clumsiness with his new golden hand. The old Jaime had been liked, respected and feared. Word would spread in time and he wouldn't be feared anymore, he wouldn't be respected and if his own family was anything to go on, he wouldn't be much liked either. Therefore, he had changed and Jaime was now someone he didn't understand. This Jaime couldn't love his sister, his sister didn't _want_ him, this Jaime couldn't fight, Jaime had always been good at fighting, this Jaime was something so complicated that Jaime had no idea what he was anymore. Somehow, the look in Sansa's eyes had told him that she knew who he was, someone cared who he was.

Now as Sansa looked at him for the second time that evening he thought he saw that pain again, and scarily he understood it. She had lost it all. He entire family was in ruins, her parents both murdered, her eldest brother killed at a wedding, of all the places, her sister was no doubt dead in some hole somewhere, her two younger brothers had been burned by Theon Greyjoy and Winterfell was now burned to the ground. There was no one for her, no one who cared… or loved. Jaime may complain about how horrible his life was now but when he stared into those eyes he realised just how trivial his own problems were. His family was still alive, his mother had died long ago but his father, sister and brother all still stood, as power hungry as they all were, at least he still had somewhere to go. She didn't have anywhere, and somehow he understood that, he really did. And as he looked at her he thought he saw a small tear, it could have even be excused as sweat in the hot chamber, trickle down her cheek before she diverted her eyes and fixed them on her untouched food.

"That was some good cleaning." Jaime turned his head to his sister who calmly sipped her wine, her eyes quickly flitting to his golden hand.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, I'm not as useless as you seem to make out." Cersei snorted at that.

"So I suppose that means you are better suited to cleaning tables than protecting your king?" Jaime stiffened, his eyes warning her.

"I will not speak of this."

"You still intend to remain in the King's Guard?"

"Of course I do."

"Do not delude yourself and think I will accept you."

"Why not?" hissed Jaime careful that none heard whilst Cersei pierced him with those green eyes that may well cut steel just with a glare.

"I told you," she hissed, "you took too long." Jaime couldn't stop the hurt and instead looked to his food whilst Cersei engaged in a conversation with father. Since when did he feel hurt.

"Please, you must eat," came Tyrion's voice and Jaime looked over to see Sansa looking to Tyrion with stone cold eyes, it seemed she truly was a Stark.

"I would prefer not to, my lord."

"I cannot allow both my wife and my brother to starve themselves away, it is not healthy to starve yourself so."

"I am thankful, my lord, but I am not hungry." In a flash of what must've been madness Jaime stood up gaining the attention of Tywin, Cersei, Tyrion and Olenna Tyrell whilst the king, queen and Mace Tyrell chatted away.

"Where are you going?" hissed Cersei but Jaime paid her no notice as he picked up his plate with his left hand and picked up his chair under his right arm before moving it.

The table was massive and had far more room for far more people but as it was Jaime placed down his chair on the other side of his sister-in-law who looked up at him in what seemed confusion before he lay down his plate and sat down next to her. Cersei was almost gaping at him, Tyrion's eyes were wider than plates, his father had a frown upon his head and Olenna Tyrell a small smile. Sansa seemed to defiantly look down at her own plate as if nothing had happened.

"I hope you do not mind, my lady," Jaime excused trying to catch one of her odd eyes.

"It is as you wish, Ser Jaime," she spoke softly into her food and Jaime smiled slightly, some confidence entering him.

"Do you suppose the food will reply to you?" she did not reply but Jaime noticed Tyrion's odd expression over his wife's bowed head. "Food is for eating, my lady, not conversing. I must confess it will be a rather one sided conversation." Tyrion was still sporting an odd face but Jaime ignored him and all the rest as he lowered his head so it was by that of the last Stark. "You must eat."

"I can't. I won't." She whispered so silently that Jaime almost mistook it for a gust of wind but he heard it and he thought himself mad as he lowered his voice.

"Staving yourself doesn't make the demons go away."

"Then why do you do it?" He suddenly felt very vulnerable as her question reached his ears.

"What?"

"Your demons," she raised her face to him, their faces only inches apart as her eyes met his yet again, "if not eating won't make them go away. Why don't you eat?" There was nothing, nothing in this chamber except her, those haunted eyes, which were searching so desperately for something, anything to ease the pain.

"I'm just… not hungry."

"Neither am I." Her eyes were challenging him slightly and Jaime smiled slightly at it.

"How about we do this together, shall we?" asked Jaime making her eyes frown.

"I don't understand."

"We'll eat together, we're both hiding from something, eating won't help that aim… but we're both… scared," Jaime had never admitted he was scared before, "it only seems fair to jump the leap of faith together." He expected her to look back to her plate and never speak again but instead, slowly, and delicately, she took up her knife and fork and looked to Jaime.

He smiled before taking the fork up in his hand before he realised, yet again after forgetting, that he could not cut the meat before him, he felt that embarrassment swell and was about to lay down the fork when a delicate pair of hands appeared before him and slowly cut away at the meat. He looked up to see her doing it, her eyes still seemed cold but there was a spark there, something that seemed a little like conviction… or maybe hope. She glanced up to meet his eyes and quite unexpectedly a little smile graced her lips before reverting back to her normal demeanour but Jaime did not doubt that the smile was the most enchanting one he had ever witnessed.

"Thank you," Jaime spoke softly and her eyes flitted upwards bringing another small smile, "are you ready to eat, my lady?" she nodded slightly before cutting off a bit of meat and then watching Jaime.

With now little effort Jaime skewered a piece of meat before popping it into his mouth and watching as she slowly did the same before chewing. Jaime quickly finished the first piece of meat before swallowing it down and watching as she did the same, her skin looking less pale than it had done before.

"Delicious, don't you think so, my lady?" Jaime said with a small smile, which she returned before slowly taking in another piece and Jaime set to work on his own.

As he ate his eyes came upon Tyrion who was looking between Jaime and Sansa in a very odd way, no doubt Jaime would get an explanation later.

/O\

It was late as Jaime walked with Tyrion on the way back to Tyrion and Sansa's room. After consuming a bit more meat, for Jaime honestly didn't feel hungry, he had spoken with Tyrion and Sansa, mainly Sansa and mostly in a hushed voice. He did not know why but he enjoyed it when he was able to make it through Sansa's stone cold walls and make it to the intelligent girl beneath, and what made it even better was it only seemed to happen for him. Even whenever Tyrion spoke, Sansa's defences would be back up as high and fortified as ever and Tyrion would frown.

As they came to their room Tyrion ushered Sansa inside requesting a word with Jaime so, as the young girl went into the room Tyrion turned to Jaime with raised brows.

"You certainly enjoyed yourself tonight."

"I doubt you may call in 'enjoyable', Cersei was at my neck."

"It seems that Sansa suited you better company." Jaime almost lurched at this and instead frowned.

"She is certainly interesting company when you decide to listen."

"No, Jaime, she might well be interesting company when she decides to actually _say_ anything," he gave Jaime a pointed look, "I have no idea how or why but she's said more to you this evening than she's said to anyone since her father died." Jaime raised a brow.

"I fail to see-"

"And you like her." That stopped Jaime as he looked at his brother who raised a brow. "I'm not an idiot, Jaime, I don't know how or why but she talks to you and from what I've gained this past week, you've spoken more to her than anyone else since getting back." Jaime stood still and silent as his brother sighed before gesturing to the door. "Talk to her."

"What?"

"Go." Jaime didn't question further as he slowly opened the door and entered into Tyrion and Sansa's room. It was a decently sized room, large for Tyrion at the least. But most of the room's details passed him by as his eyes went to Sansa. She stood at the window staring out over the capital, not looking at the door.

"I'll change in a moment, my lord." She spoke and Jaime smirked very slightly, she thought he was Tyrion. Steadily he walked over to the window to look out, she moved her eyes and seemed surprised to see Jaime before turning her eyes out to the city as well.

They both stood in silence for a while just looking out over what many proclaimed to be a beautiful and heavenly city, Jaime called them all liars.

"You know, when I was little they told you all these… stories, tales of a city so great and grand that it was as if the seven themselves had delivered it to Westeros," Jaime spoke looking out of the city but not at Sansa beside him, "my maester would tell me of all the great wars whilst the Targareans ruled, all fought and spilled blood in order to sit on a throne which sat here. They fought for a city that must hold such power and prowess that it couldn't be anything but stunning. When I was appointed to the King's Guard I was sent here from Harrenhall and although I would of rather stayed I thought this place lived up to all the stories and beyond. The Red Keep shining above the rest of the city, casting a great light for all the land to follow…" he sucked in a great breath, "I realised it wasn't all beautiful. I listened as the king raped his wife and the other kingsguard told me not to intervene… I watched as Rickard and Brandon Stark were burned in the throne room and I just… watched. It wasn't until I killed the Mad King that I realised just how much of a shit hole this place is. The plotting, the murdering the constant scheming… I suddenly realised just how filthy this entire city was. The thing is, after I was captured, I thought I'd be happy to see this place again, it would be better than being stuck in a cage with your own shit. The thing is, now I'm here, I'd rather go back to the cage, at least that was honest about what it was."

Jaime looked to his side to see Sansa staring up at him with those stunning blue eyes that seemed to understand him so much, she was only a girl but somehow she understood him far more than anyone else had, far more than Cersei, Tyrion or father.

"I hate this place," she whispered as if someone may punish her for it.

"I know," spoke Jaime honestly, staring into those eyes, "so do I."

"They're… all gone… all of them…" tears were slowly slipping down her cheeks and Jaime wiped them with a thumb, his insides wrenching themselves inside of him.

"I'm sorry Sansa."

"No one else cares," she whispered hugging herself and shivering violently. Not sure what he was doing Jaime put his arms around the girl, he really wasn't used to this at all, but felt confident as he head nestled in his shoulder and her arms hugged herself tightly to him.

"That makes two of us." Jaime accidentally whispered aloud and almost hit himself for his blunder in showing weakness but suddenly felt something on his right arm. He looked down to see her hand had moved to his arm and was holding it firmly.

"I care." He could see the truth in her eyes and it hurt.

"Why?"

"I don't know," she whispered, "but I do." Jaime took a breath there realising something.

"Would it be so bad… if I cared too?" they stood there for a bit, holding each other before Jaime raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it gently.

"Sweet dreams, my lady." And he left.

That night neither Sansa nor Jamie had bad dreams.


End file.
